


Frozen in Place

by Sarayburnu



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Circle of Magi, magic in thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarayburnu/pseuds/Sarayburnu
Summary: This short fic is part of a larger series of writing exercises centered around the Dragon Age universe. There are few things I love more than DA lore. I also love the First Enchanter and he deserves more things written about him during his time in the Kirkwall Circle. This fic exists to fill those gaps as well as force me out of stubborn writer's block. Enjoy!





	Frozen in Place

**Author's Note:**

> Some knowledge of Circle politics is required, as is a vague familiarity with First Enchanter Orsino. 
> 
> Prompt: Bare Feet

The braziers had just been put out. Thin coils smoke wandered through the halls as the last of the mages were escorted to their quarters. Faint smears of moonlight stretched across bare stone walls, interrupted only by night watchmen. A resentful quiet had fallen upon Kirkwall’s Circle. However the serenity was soon disturbed, as were all prolonged silences in Kirkwall. 

First Enchanter Orsino was a Circle mage of some authority. He was respected by most of his fellow mages and by enough of the Templars to put some weight behind the title. Only now he doubted either faction would appreciate the extenuating circumstances that led to his current state of running barefoot through the mess hall in his nightclothes. Whatever might his title granted him was strictly metaphorical. Even his naturally thin elvish frame looked gaunt in the robes that clothed him. His long, pale ears twitched at the slightest sound while his green eyes darted frantically at every shadow. He was looking for his newest charge, a child named Dia, who couldn’t have been older than seven. She had arrived earlier that day, escorted by two fully armed Templar retainers. The First Enchanter remembered the haunted look in her eyes as she was lead into her captive eternity. He wished desperately that he had been able to speak with her, but the Templar had shoved past him. There had been uniforms to don, lectures to administer and blood to be taken. If she attempted to flee she would be hunted down by the leash of her own vitality. It was the Templar way. Their magic (and it was magic, and blood magic at that) was sanctified by the Chantry on high while the rest of them were damned to writhe in their bonds beneath them. 

The First Enchanter caught himself just before pitching headlong over a worktable. He scolded himself inwardly for allowing his own thoughts to lead him through the darkness instead of the urgent need to find the child. It would only take seconds for their jailers to find her. While it wasn’t always _fatal_ , their judgment was always _final_. He started up what his knees insisted was the tenth staircase in the half hour when he saw it. He had begun to worry that the child had outpaced him entirely but now he could just make out a tiny pair of glowing, icy footprints on the steps ahead. It was natural for mages of all stripes to gravitate towards elemental magics, especially when their deepest emotions had been stirred. She must be so afraid if every step nearly froze her in her tracks. 

_“Dia!”_ Orsino whispered urgently, peering into the darkness. He held his breath as he waited for a reply. A sharp gasp, then the faintest shuffle of feet. She had to be just ahead! The First Enchanter sprang from the landing and ran towards the sound, his feet hitting the cold stone hard as he begged the Maker for just another second. One more minute and they would be on their way back without a single guard the wiser. Orsino thought the Maker himself had materialized in front of him, such was his surprise as he dashed straight into the metal chestplate of an equally stunned Templar knight. 

“Maker’s breath!” The guard gasped, squaring his stance over the elf. “Were you not the First Enchanter, I would put my heel between your ribs.” He snarled. The First Enchanter winced as he got to his feet. His right foot had smashed hard into the other’s armored boot, leaving a jagged scrape across the thin skin. His heart dropped when he lifted his face to meet the Templar’s gaze and found Dia’s instead. Her brilliant blue eyes glowered back at him with fear and defiance.

“I was searching for the child.” Orsino replied without a hint of nerves. 

“This brat made a decent break for it.” The Templar replied, jerking Dia’s arm harshly. Even in the dim corridor the First Enchanter could see where clawed gauntlets stabbed into her wrist. “Return her to my care, she has been here half a day and is hardly a recruit. With time she will learn, and this offense will not be repeated.” Orsino said in the voice of one constrained by unbearable protocol and intense emotion. A tone only a Templar would delight in. The guard looked down with disgust at the child and slowly unclenched his fist. She made no motion to escape and looked expectantly at Orsino, who turned immediately the way he had come. 

In an attempt to ignore the guard’s haranguing during their march back, Orsino cast worried looks at the mage girl, hoping to catch her attention long enough to offer a glance of reassurance or comfort. She refused to look at him and stared straight at the path ahead. The First Enchanter berated himself internally for not intervening sooner. He should have caught her in the hall, asserted his authority as the First Enchanter of the Circle of Kirkwall long before this frightened child acted out of desperation. He clenched his jaw tighter, knowing that such despair would be her constant companion for as long as she walked within Circle walls. He was deep in a reverie of his own miserable adolescence in Kirkwall when he felt something brush against him. Small fingers had worked their way through his and were holding on tight. 

Soon, the dawn would come.


End file.
